


Heal Thyself

by wrote_and_writ



Series: Fictober [10]
Category: 2 moons, เดือนเกี้ยวเดือน | 2 Moons The Series (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Fictober, Fictober 2019, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 01:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrote_and_writ/pseuds/wrote_and_writ
Summary: Doctors are notoriously bad at taking care of themselves, and Kit is proving this before he even earns his MD.





	Heal Thyself

**Author's Note:**

> I’m interested in the ways the characters, particularly Beam and Kit, show anxiety and depression in such a fluffy, romantic show. So this has a lot of feelings about that and angsty stuff. 
> 
> This isn’t from a particular Fictober prompt but it’s been itching away in my brain for awhile.

He’d been dreaming -- no, it was a nightmare. Ming’s face swam in and out of focus, panic etched on his features. He couldn’t quite make out what Ming was saying, but it might be --  
“Kit!”  


Kit tried to move, to turn his head toward the sound. Beam, not Ming, was with him. But he hadn’t been with Beam. He’d been in his room, studying. Except he couldn’t focus, so--  


“Kit, are you awake?” Beam’s hand rested on his forearm. His skin burned.  


“Beam...what..?”  


“Thank FUCK!” Beam said, dropping to his knees beside the bed -- _why was his room so bright? What was beeping? Why couldn’t he move?--_ hands gripping the plastic rail beside him.  


“What is--”  


“You stupid, stupid fucking idiot!” Beam spat. Kit wanted to protest, but when he looked at Beam, he was -- shit, he was crying?  


Forth loomed into Kit’s field of vision. He pulled Beam to his feet, whispering in his boyfriend’s ear, and steered him aside. He turned back to Kit, his face tight with worry, but his voice was uncharacteristically gentle.  


“Have some water, Kit,” he said. He held a large plastic cup with a straw to Kit’s lips. Kit tried to drink, but nothing happened.  


“I’ll get him some ice chips.” Phana? Why were they all in his room? And where was Ming? He’d been studying with Kit.  


“Ah, he’s awake?” A deep voice. A stranger.  


“Sort of,” Forth replied, stepping aside as a man in a white coat came into view. He looked at Kit’s eyes, felt his forehead.  


“Can you boys wait outside? I’d like to speak with the patient.”  


_Patient?_ Kit tried to make sense of what was going on, but pain bloomed behind his eyes.  


“Of course, Dr. Liu,” Beam said. He reached for Forth’s hand and led him out.  


The man in white, Dr. Liu, wheeled a stool to Kit’s bedside. He flipped through a chart, checked a monitor, made a few notes, and smiled gently at Kit.  


“So,” he said, resting the back of his hand against Kit’s forehead, “do you know where you are?”  


“Hospital?” Kit rasped.  


“Mmm hmm. And do you know why you’re here?”  


Kit struggled to concentrate, to cut through the haze of pain. “I was studying, but then I couldn’t -- my brain wouldn’t stop -- “ He forced his thoughts into order. “It wouldn’t shut up and let me think, so I went for a run.” His voice caught. His throat was so dry.  


Dr. Liu helped him sit up, propped against the pillows, and drink some water.  


“Thanks.” His vision blurred but steadied after a few disconcerting moments.  


Dr. Liu checked the monitors while Kit collected his thoughts.  


“I overdid it,” he whispered at last.  


Dr. Liu regarded him with calm, steady eyes. “That’s one way of putting it.” He looked at his notes. “You’re pre-med, correct?”  


“Yes.” Shame crept up on Kit.  


“I don’t suppose you’ve attended any of the seminars on stress management my colleagues and I give each year? We make it a point to get to all the faculties. I always give the talk to aspiring doctors.”  


“I was busy,” Kit mumbled, looking at his hands folded in his lap. He fought the urge to pick at the tape that held the IV in place in his left hand.  


Dr. Liu cocked an eyebrow but said nothing more. Kit knew he’d been colossally stupid tonight. He hadn’t been careful, and he’d been caught. He vowed to be more discrete.  


“So…” he ventured.  


“So,” Dr. Liu agreed. “Heat exhaustion, bordering on heatstroke. You’re extremely fortunate your friends found you as quickly as they did.”  


_Fuuuuuuck._  


“We’re keeping you overnight, and I’ll contact the head of your faculty and tell them not to expect you in classes until Monday at the earliest.”  


“But my exams!”  


“Can be postponed.” Dr. Liu raised a hand to forestall further argument. “I’ve got a good relationship with your advisor. She’s very understanding. Although I can’t promise you’ll escape a lecture.”  


Kit groaned, and Dr. Liu flashed a sympathetic smile, then checked his watch.  


“You need sleep, but I want to go over a few things with you before my shift ends.” He took a paper from his clipboard. “You can read this when you get home, but it’s instructions on how to take care of yourself once you’re home. I have copies for your friends if you want them to have the information, and I can send one to your family if you decide to go home.”  


“No, Doctor, not my parents!” Kit’s heart rate spiked, and Dr. Liu frowned.  


“You’re an adult, so technically I can’t force you, but I want you to think carefully about it. I’m not thrilled with the choices you made tonight. I would feel better if you had some help over the next few days.”  


“Beam and Pha will help, I think,” Kit said in a small voice.  


Dr. Liu sighed, but didn’t press the issue further. Instead, he took a small orange bottle from his coat pocket. Kit could see a dozen or so oblong green and white capsules.  


“You weren’t making a lot of sense when you came in, but based on our conversation and some insights offered by your friends, I think there may be something underneath the normal stresses of exams. These,” he said, shaking the bottle, “are a mild anti-anxiety medication.”  


“No! I don’t --”  


“Two weeks’ worth.”  


“But I’m not--”  


“You don’t have to take them,” Dr. Liu said calmly. “But I’d like you to consider trying it. Your friends tell me you spend an hour or more a day running, at the gym, around campus, and while I certainly promote a healthy exercise regimen, tonight makes me think there is something more than simple cardio to your routines. Do you disagree?”  


Kit wanted to. He badly wanted to deny anything was wrong. But he remembered the fear and pain on his best friends’ faces. And Ming! Shit, what must Ming be thinking? He shook his head, mute with anguish. Dr. Liu patted his shoulder.  


“I’d like you to try these,” he said, placing the bottle on the table beside Kit’s bed. He then took a business card from his shirt pocket. “This is the contact information for my colleague, Dr. Tanaka. She’s a psychologist here. I’ve taken the liberty of checking her schedule, and she has several free appointments in the next month. I think you would benefit from chatting with her. Or, if you prefer, I could give you contact information for someone based at the university.”  


Kit felt a bubble of panic threatened to choke him. Dr. Liu must have seen it in his eyes, because he gave Kit a warm smile and squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to make any decisions now, young man. I only wanted to be sure you had the information before you were discharged.”  


“Thank you.” Kit’s voice was nearly gone. Dr. Liu helped him to drink a bit more water and adjusted his IV before standing to leave.  


“If you like, I’ll tell the nurses to let your friends in to see you once more before you sleep.”  


“Please.” Kit blinked rapidly, though no tears came.  


“Alright.” He squeezed Kit’s shoulder once more. “They can stay for a few minutes more, and then you rest. Someone from my office will check up on you in a few days, so take it easy, eh? Doctor’s orders.”  


Kit nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”  


Dr. Liu smiled again and left. Left him alone with his thoughts. His treacherous thoughts. Panic flared again, and Kit fought against it -- he could not let his friends see -- he’d put them through enough tonight. He screwed his eyes shut and forced long, shuddering breaths in through his nose and out his mouth, counting each intake and exhalation.  


He opened his eyes when he heard the door open. Grim-faced Phana shuffled in first, followed by Forth and Beam, attached at the hip, Yo, his eyes huge with concern, and Ming, his Ming, who could not look at him. Kit’s heart clenched.  


“Hey,” he said weakly.  


“Hey, KitKat,” Forth said. He gripped Beam’s hand like a lifeline, and his smile did not reach his eyes.  


“Dr. Liu said they’re keeping you overnight,” Phana said, his voice clipped, a sure sign of his fear.  


Kit nodded, swallowing hard. He wanted to say something, but he choked. Pha flashed him a look, and Kit waved at the cup of water.  


“Shit, yeah, okay.” Phana held the straw to his lips, and Kit drank greedily. Pha carefully wiped Kit’s mouth when he was done.  


Ming leaned back against the wall as if he wanted it to swallow him whole. Kit wracked his brain, trying to think of something, anything, he could say that would erase the terror haunting Ming’s eyes, but a nurse opened the door and fixed the boys with a glare.  


“Time to go,” he said in a voice that brooked no discussion. “You can collect him in the morning.”  


“Ming--” Kit’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried. Ming looked at him, and Kit could read every crack in Ming’s breaking heart, cracks _he_ put there.  


Forth leaned in to whisper something to the nurse, who glared again but gave a curt nod before leaving the room. The boys filed by, each giving Kit their love before closing the door and leaving Ming and Kit alone.  


Kit tried to say Ming’s name, but nothing came out. He held out his hand, and Ming hesitated for long, agonizing moments before collapsing beside the bed, Kit’s hand crushed between his own. Sobs tore through the boy, and Kit could do nothing to stop them.  


“Ming,” Kit croaked, “Ming! I’m so, so sorry, Ming. Please, please stop. I’m so sorry.”  


Ming did not look at him, but he pressed his lips to Kit’s hand. Kit tried to reach for him, to pull him up into an embrace, but the IV held him back.  


“Ming, please, look at me.”  


Ming lifted his head and scrubbed a hand across his eyes.  


“I found you,” he said.  


“Shit.” Kit closed his eyes briefly. “Shit, Ming, I’m so so so sorry.”  


“You were lying in the road. I thought maybe a car, that you, that I wouldn’t get to -- I thought you were dead.”  


“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Kit reached for him, but Ming refused to let himself be held.  


“I found you, Kit.”  


“Ming, please,” Kit begged. “Please, come up here. Please, please, will you hold me, Ming?”  


Ming hid his face in his arms, and Kit felt his sobs shake the bed.  


“Ming, please?”  


Ming took long, shaky breaths, wresting his emotions under control before he looked at Kit again. Kit held out his arm, and Ming leaned in, allowing Kit to stroke his cheek.  


“Please come up here, Ming?”  


“You’ll overheat again. I can’t--”  


“I don’t care!” Kit mustered a flash of anger.  


“Clearly!” Ming shot back.  


“No! That’s not what I --” Kit closed his eyes and collapsed against the pillow. The nurse came in just then, sparing the boys further outbursts. He dragged a padded chair with him.  


“Dr. Liu said you can stay,” he told Ming, “but you’re to let him rest.” He frowned at Kit’s feverish expression. “But it seems--”  


“Please,” Kit rasped, tightening his grip on Ming’s hand, “I’m okay. Please let him stay.”  


Ming added his own silent plea as he held Kit’s hand in both of his own.  


The nurse sighed, weighing the possibility of a fight, then shrugged. “If you need a blanket, or if you,” he glared at Kit, “need anything, I’ll be at the nurses’ station until six.”  


“Thank you,” Ming said.  


The nurse issued another brusque nod. “Alright then.” He turned to go, stopped at the door and looked back at them. “And no funny business.”  


“Yes, sir,” the boys replied.  


Kit felt a bubble of helpless laughter rise up. The nurse sounded so much like his brother. And then a crashing wave of guilt. His family would be devastated. His grandma --  


“Kit! Shhhh, Kit, it’ll be okay.” Ming stood by his bed now, fear washing over him again, and Kit realized he was beginning to hyperventilate. Ming spread a hand over Kit’s chest. “Shhh, KitKat, shhh. It’s okay. Breathe. Breathe with me.”  


Kit locked eyes with Ming, and together, they matched breath for breath, until the panic in Kit’s brain subsided to its usual background anxious buzz. Ming leaned in for a soft kiss.  


“We’ll figure this out, P’Kit,” he whispered. “Just stick around so we can, yeah?”  


“I will, Ming, I swear I will.”  


Exhaustion clawed at Kit’s consciousness. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his gaze fixed on Ming. Ming smiled then, a soft look of fond exasperation, one of Kit’s favorite looks on his boyfriend. Fear had been put aside for now, and he placed a kiss on each of Kit’s eyelids.  


“Sleep.” He smoothed Kit’s bangs aside and kissed his forehead. He tried to release Kit’s hand, but Kit held stubbornly fast.  


“I need to get settled,” Ming said. “I’m not leaving.”  


Kit squeezed his hand tighter, but let go. Ming moved the chair to Kit’s right side, away from the monitors and IV stand, and settled in close. Kit reached for him the moment Ming sat down. Ming kissed his hand and held it to his cheek.  


“I’m here. I won’t go anywhere.”  


Kit scooted over, close as he could, close enough to catch the scent of Ming -- his shampoo, his spicy citrus cologne -- through the sterile hospital smells, closed his eyes, and fell into dreamless sleep.


End file.
